Unforgettable Heroes Boxed Set

by James, Maddie

  Panic welled in his gut as he turned to face the woman he loved. Suddenly, the romance of a surprise wedding didn’t seem all that romantic. It just seemed stupid.

  “El, I did something,” he began hesitantly. Worry clouded her evergreen eyes as she searched his face for a clue. Unfortunately, as good an FBI agent as he was, he’d never mastered hiding his feelings from Ellie. When it came to the tiny woman standing in front of him, Jack was an open book. “I did something and now I’m thinking it might have been something stupid. But it’s not too late,” he hastened to add. “I mean, I did something, but it can be undone and we can just go to Aruba and do what we planned to do.”

  A furrow appeared between her dark brows. “Go to Aruba and do what we planned to do? You mean get married?” She shook her head, clearly perplexed. “You don’t want to get married?”

  “God, no,” he blurted. Ellie took a hasty step back, recoiling as if he’d slapped her silly. Grasping her arms, he closed the distance between them. “I mean, yes! Yes, I want to get married. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I set it up as a surprise, but now I’m thinking it’s not such a great surprise.”

  “What’s not?”

  “Our wedding. Here. Tonight.”

  Her eyes grew large and round. Lush lips formed a perfect ‘O’ as comprehension sank in. A tiny glimmer of a smile lit a spark of hope inside him. Still, being the man he was, Jack decided it was better to err on the side of caution and come completely clean.

  “I thought it would be romantic. I talked to some guys at the St. Louis field office, and they helped me get it all sorted out. We have a license and a Justice of the Peace waiting at the far gate. My mom and your sister helped me set it all up, and for the record, they both warned me that I should tell you.” He sighed. “But I got it in my head that it would be more romantic this way. More like the way we met. And I…. It just occurred to me that you might really prefer the beach wedding thing over my stupid ideas of what might be romantic. If you do, we can still—”

  “You want us to get married here? In the airport?”

  “We don’t have to. I can just…I’ll tell the Justice of the Peace we decided to do the beach thing after all. Your mom would never go for this anyway.”

  He pushed his hand through his hair, watching and waiting for his sentence. It wasn’t easy to convince Ellie of anything, and now that they were standing mere yards away from the biggest screw-up of his life, he didn’t expect her to pull her punches. As if she was determined to prove how contrary she truly was, Ellie said nothing. And like the glutton she made him, he all but begged her to dole out his punishment.

  “Ellie, say something.”

  His impassioned plea seemed to snap her from a trance. Big green eyes focused on him with laser-hot intensity. Her soft pink lips pursed, but Jack was savvy enough to know that it wasn’t an invitation to kiss. Grasping her hand, he gave her cool fingers a squeeze and threw his Hail Mary.

  “I’ll get rid of the guy, and we can pretend this never happened.”

  Ellie’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yes.”

  He acknowledged his defeat with a sharp nod. “Stay here. I’ll corral the family and take care of things.”

  He backed away before she could regain her powers of speech, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the concourse while the crowd ebbed around the tiny isle of Ellie. He made it three steps and was about to turn when she gave her head a brisk shake.

  “Jack, I said yes.”

  His next step faltered. He could only wait and watch as she closed the gap between them, wariness tensing every muscle in his body. Narrowing his eyes, he scanned her face for traces of anger. He found none. “Yes to what, exactly?”

  Tipping her chin up, she raised her eyebrows in unspoken challenge. A smile teased the corners of her mouth, but she managed to keep a straight face. Barely. “I said yes.”

  Warmth blossomed in his chest. “Yes, you want to go to Aruba, or yes you want to get married tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Both?”

  “Married tonight, Aruba tomorrow,” she confirmed.

  Sweeping her up against him, he lifted her off her feet and turned in a stumbling circle. All around them harried travelers ducked and dodged, a few muttering but most smiling. He couldn’t stop smiling either as she clung to his neck, her cheek pressed to his. “We’re not ‘get married on a beach’ people, El.”

  A beatific smile lit her face as she slid down his chest. He braced her, making certain her feet were under her before cupping his palm to the soft curve of her cheek. She nuzzled into the caress and he knew to the soles of his feet that he’d made the right call.

  “We’re more the ‘get married in a noisy airport while snowmageddon rages outside and our mothers battle for supremacy inside’ type.”

  “Yes.” Her lashes fluttered as she beat back the tears that seemed to hover so close to the surface these days. “Yes, we are.”

  “Eleanor!”

  They both stiffened when Gayle’s panic-fueled voice ripped through the hubbub. Jack cast a glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, his future mother-in-law was bearing down on them with his mother and Ellie’s sister trotting in her wake.

  “You can’t be serious,” she huffed. Gayle dismissed him and his brilliant idea with a scathing glare then turned the full force of her incredulity on her daughter. “You cannot be seriously considering this.”

  Jack winced when he noted the telltale tightening of Ellie’s jaw. Hiking her bag higher on her shoulder, she met her mother’s baleful stare squarely. “I’m not considering it. I’m doing it.”

  The amount of distance Ellie’s short-but-proportionately-perfect legs could eat up when she was angry never failed to amaze him. Jack took off after her as she cut a swath past his mother and Laurie, making a beeline for the far gate. Unfortunately, Gayle could move just as quickly when she put her mind to it.

  Elbowing him aside, she wedged herself between Jack and Ellie. “But, sweetheart, people don’t get married in airports.”

  “People get married in all kinds of weird places,” Ellie shot back.

  Jack winced at the descriptor, and sure as sin, her mother latched onto it. “See? You even think it’s weird.” Gayle shook her head so hard he feared she’d end up in a cervical collar. “You cannot get married in an airport.”

  “People get married on bridges and in ballparks. We were going to get married on a beach we’d never seen before. For all we know, we could end up exchanging our vows in front of some oiled-up ex-hippie in a speedo,” Ellie retorted. “At least this place means something to us.” She tipped her head back and looked him in the eye. “I can’t think of any place I’d rather be married.”

  He held her gaze. “I’d hoped to get a wedding cake made out of Ho Hos, but since you can’t get Ho Hos anymore….”

  “I don’t need a Ho Ho.”

  “My mom found a place that would make us a cream roll cake covered in chocolate. It’s waiting for us at the hotel.”

  Her smile turned shaky and tears filled her eyes. “Well, I guess we should get to it, shouldn’t we?”

  He laughed at her brusque assessment, but her mother was clearly not amused. “Get to it?” Gayle cried. “Eleanor, really, you can’t just get married. Look at the way you’re dressed—”

  “Yes, really, Mom.”

  Resting his hands on Ellie’s shoulders, he took his place at her back. He stood close enough to give her whatever support she needed and braced himself for a heated exchange. But once again, Ellie surprised him. Instead of sneering, she smiled.

  “Does it really matter?” she asked her mother softly. “In the last seven weeks we’ve discussed and discarded every possible wedding scenario, but does it really matter which one we choose, Ma? I love him, and he loves me. We want to be married. Does the how and where and what I’m wearing really matter?”

  The chagrin melted from Gayle’s face. The taut line of her mouth softened to the point wher
e the corners of her lips almost tipped upwards. Green eyes so much like her daughter’s misted. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t suppose it does.” A pucker of doubt creased her brows. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait? A beach wedding would be much prettier.”

  Like a sharpshooter, Mrs. Nichols pinged the biggest flaw in his plan. There was no denying that a beach in Aruba would be more aesthetically pleasing than a waiting area.

  “She’s right,” Jack admitted gruffly. When he dared to glance at Ellie, he found her staring fixedly at the bank of windows beyond her mother. “Elfie?”

  “What a beautiful pain in the ass,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  Ellie nodded to the windows. “I remember sitting there thinking about how beautiful the snow looked, and how wrong it was for something so beautiful to be such a pain in the ass.”

  “Eleanor,” Gayle admonished, but she turned to look just the same.

  Gayle’s sharp intake of breath had nothing on the surge his heart took when he spotted the big, wet flakes of snow curtaining the tinted glass.

  “Beautiful,” he agreed, unable to pry his gaze from her enraptured profile.

  “It wasn’t supposed to come this far south,” Gayle protested.

  “It’s perfect.” Ellie grabbed his hand and took off at a near trot. “Hurry, Rudolph, before it stops.”

  Unable to suppress his grin, he hustled to keep up with her. “I don’t think it’s going to just switch off or something.”

  “I don’t want to miss it.”

  Jack checked over his shoulder to find Gayle hot on their heels. Looking ahead, he spotted the rest of Ellie’s family huddled on a cluster of vinyl seats while his mother conferred with two men in dark suits and a woman wearing a dress that looked like a kindergartener went after it with scissors, green wool hunting socks, and Birkenstock sandals.

  “Whoa. Maybe we should take our chances on a Speedo guy.”

  “Who has the license?” Ellie demanded as soon as they entered the gate area.

  “Here.” One of the suits stepped forward, a smirk twisting his lips. “Rudolph? I’m Gus Adamson, St. Louis Field Office,” he said, offering his hand.

  Jack took it, recognizing the man’s name. One of his Oklahoma City friends quasi-introduced him to a local contact via conference call, and true to his word, it appeared Special Agent Adamson had come through. “Hey. It’s nice to meet you. I appreciate your help.”

  “I’d say it was no problem, but it looks like we’ll be pulling favors from the Chicago office for some time,” the other man replied. Freeing a sheet of paper from his coat pocket, he handed it to Jack. “Special Agent Newcomb is also a Notary Public. He’ll make sure you’re all squared away.”

  Within minutes, the license was signed and notarized, they’d made the acquaintance of Ms. Bonnie Hasselfrund, their Justice of the Peace, and Marcus Nichols had corralled his wife. Next thing he knew, his mother had deftly placed him in front of the airline podium and moved to stand at his side. Jack ignored Ellie’s mother’s wringing hands and the wickedly approving smile wreathing Grandma Bernadette’s face. He turned toward the concourse to see Ellie standing patiently beside her father as her sister poked at her hair and tugged at her travel-rumpled clothes. The diamond he’d slid onto her finger mere weeks before glinted under florescent lights and sparked his memory. With a choked gasp, Jack lunged for the backpack he’d dumped into an empty seat.

  “What are you doing, Jump?” his mother asked in a hush.

  He let the use of the annoying childhood nickname slide as he unzipped the center compartment of his bag. “Ring. I need the ring.”

  His fingers closed around the velvet box, but his knuckles brushed cool, smooth plastic. He glanced up to find Ellie watching him with a curiously amused and affectionate smile. The smile he hoped to keep coaxing out of her for the rest of her life. Extracting both treasures, he passed the ring box off to his mother before murmuring, “Be right back.”

  Ellie cocked her head as he approached. “Second thoughts, Rudolph?”

  “Not on your life, Elfie,” he retorted. Coming to a stop in front of her, he glanced down at her empty hand. “I don’t have a bouquet for you, but maybe you can carry this?”

  He couldn’t help but smile when Ellie opened her hand without hesitation. For all her caution and wariness, it had been like this between them from the start—trusting on instinct, loving with helpless abandon.

  Her shocked gasp of recognition told him he’d chosen wisely. Ellie lifted the plastic snow globe he’d inadvertently purchased exactly three hundred and sixty-five days ago with a reverence the cheap molded plastic didn’t deserve, but Jack wholly understood.

  “Oh, Jack,” she sighed. She clutched the souvenir to her heart and beamed a smile more brilliant than a thousand Christmas lights. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

  An impish smile lit her face as she gave the trinket a good shake. Inside that watery world glitterized flakes of snow rained down on the Gateway Arch. Ellie stood on her toes and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek.

  “I think you’re supposed to wait until after the vows to play smoochy-face,” her sister reminded them.

  “Right.” Unwilling to take his eyes off his prize, Jack walked backwards toward the podium, trusting his mother to steer him into place.

  The minute he was set, Ellie beamed at her father and said, “Daddy, walk fast.”

  Ellie’s mother sniffled into a tissue as her husband did just that. Her watery smile conceded a gracious defeat. The utter joy in her eyes when she shifted her gaze to Jack granted him final absolution for ruining all her plans. A hush fell over the surrounding gate areas. The snow falling thick and heavy beyond the glass walls seemed to muffle the hustle and bustle of the busy concourse.

  “Her belly’s getting bigger by the minute,” Grandma Bernadette announced to all and sundry, breaking the spell with her usual sledgehammer subtlety.

  A speaker crackled overhead. Jack looked up to find Ms. Hasselfrund grinning madly as she lifted the intercom mic to her mouth and began to speak. “Dearly beloved….”

  THE END

  SILENT PARTNER

  Renee Vincent

  Chapter One

  There he was.

  Shaking his cute little ass on the dance floor of Gyrations, the hippest night club in downtown Boston, amid a flock of beautiful women.

  Chloe had first noticed him, chatting with the bartender, when she entered the strobe-lit room and wandered up to the bar. Their discussion looked important since they were both hovered over a business calendar. But, once a change of song had happened, he skirted away from the conversation with a look of intent on his face—probably to score one of the many loose women who had caught his eye earlier in the night.

  She couldn’t tell which one he was looking to get lucky with as there were so many dancing around him, their barely-there clothes shimmering underneath the illuminating black light, each one competing for his attention. She didn’t blame them. He was quite possibly the sexiest man she’d ever seen.

  He wore sleek, black, painted-on leather pants, a tight white tank, and a have-your-fill-of-me grin on his handsome face. He was enjoying himself—that was for certain—as he moved his body to the beat of the booming bass, his hips looking as if they were dislocated from the rest of him.

  Oh, he knew how to dance—quite well—and he was not afraid to show it among the many who crammed into the joint. In fact, he held many people’s attention—not just hers—as if he had a reputation to live up to. As if the status of ‘the best male dancer’ was up for grabs.

  She didn’t think there was such an event going on at the crowded nightspot, but she would definitely cast her vote in his favor if there was. No one in the place could even come close to matching his abilities. His steps were graceful, his rhythm was spot on, and his lithe muscular body moved in ways she didn’t think possible. His hips entranced every female in the club, and probably infuriated every male w
ho was left holding up the bar.

  Chloe gazed around the trendy, atmospheric room and took in the many grievous faces of the men standing in random corners, drinks in hand, their attention focused. She assumed they were all either watching Casanova in hopes of learning something, or, more likely, waiting for him to make a move on their girlfriends just so they could have a reason to open a can of whup-ass and vent their jealousies.

  As she glanced back at Mr. Gyration, he was now grinding against some blonde’s tight-jeaned derriere, his hands on her hips as though he was having sex with her. She noticed the bimbo’s expressive face, her lips parted and her eyes half-closed from the pleasures he was dishing out, and it was obvious the girl wished he’d get into her pants before the night was over.

  Chloe sighed and looked away, tossing back a shot of Tequila, knowing the only way she was going to get ‘lucky’ tonight was if she awoke tomorrow morning without a horrendous hangover. At this point in the game, she didn’t look beyond her next shot, and let the burn of the alcohol soothe her troubled mind.

  She was two drinks in and raised her hand for another.

  The bartender, cool and confident, opened the broad-bottomed bottle of Patrón and leaned toward her, his weight casually resting on one elbow. “You sure ‘bout this, honey?”

  Of course she was sure. She wouldn’t have ordered it to begin with had she been apprehensive about the drink’s potential. She knew well what the hard liquor could do, and since she was there for one thing and one thing only, she had high hopes it would soon help her to forget her worries and drown her stress.

  She was an artist—a starving artist. If she didn’t find a way to sell more of her paintings, she was going to lose everything. Her shop. Her home. Her life.

  Every little bit of her savings had gone toward the funding of her big dream. And for a while, things looked promising. Her paintings were moving out the door on a relatively regular basis. Her biggest clients had been young, wealthy doctors and lawyers who aimed to spruce up their bachelor penthouse pads with risqué nudity in an artistic form. On occasion, she had even locked in a few hairdressers who wanted the more tasteful pieces for their salons.